Edgewood Series: Books 1 - 3 (84 page)

The whites of her eyes ringed enlarged pupils. She said, “What have you done? What have you done?” It was a wail, an accusation, a tormented cry. “Tell me now before it’s too late!”

“I don’t know what you mean,” I said. “Mom, stop it. You’re scaring me.”

“I will shake the devil out of you,” she said. “I will not rest until you’re free of his grasp.” Her voice was a deep growl I didn’t recognize.

“Dad!” I yelled, hoping he was within earshot. “Help!” I had never seen Mom this way. Her intense stare gave me the chills. I felt her fingernails gouging into the fleshy part of my upper arms. “Dad!”

“Don’t bother,” she said. “He’s not home.”

“Yes, he is,” I said, gesturing with my head. “He’s right in the doorway. Dad!”

She hesitated and let go just for a moment to look, and that’s all it took. I took advantage of the element of surprise and pushed her off of me. She lost her balance and fell off the bed. I shook off the covers, ran past her and flew down the stairs.

“Liar!” she yelled from behind me. “Lying to your own mother. You’re not my daughter. Nadia would never treat me this way.”

I paused at the front door, but when I saw she’d locked the deadbolt with a key, I gave up without even trying. The odds were good that she’d secured the whole house like that. The only chance I had was to reach my father. I had no idea where he’d be at this time of night, but he wouldn’t have gone far. I ran to the kitchen to use the landline. It was an old-fashioned phone attached to the wall above the counter. A curly cord kept it tethered to the base. The phone was there when we’d moved into the house and my mother saw no reason to update it as long as it still worked. I punched in the number for my dad’s cell phone and listened as it rang.
Come on, come on. Pick up the phone, Dad.
I pictured him in line at the grocery store or in the car. If that was the case, it was going right to voice mail. He was old school concerning phone etiquette. He’d never answer the phone when he was driving or if he were talking to a cashier. One was unsafe, the other was rude. I heard my mother clumping down the stairs, her breathing heavy. Right now she didn’t even sound like Mom.

The call went to voice mail.
Oh no.
I clutched the phone and waited for the beep. I spoke frantically. “Dad, it’s me Nadia. I’m at home and…” Stupid. Of course I was home. I was never
not
home. “Something’s wrong with Mom. She’s acting crazy and I need you here right now. Please…”

She rounded the corner and came at me with both hands, pushing me against the wall. I lost my hold on the phone and it dropped, dangling from the cord. “Leave my daughter now!” she shouted.

“Mom, it’s me, Nadia.” I tried to talk sense to her but there was no reasoning with someone who had no reason.

“You’re not fooling me,” she said with a sneer. “I knew as soon as I came into the room that you went into my daughter’s body. I saw the change with my own eyes. Believe me, I will cast you out!” She put her hands around my neck and squeezed. I reached up and tried to pull her hands away, but she was incredibly strong. I slapped at her head and kicked with one leg, but it only made her madder and she increased the pressure on my windpipe. Her eyes narrowed. She yelled, “Out I say!”

The sound of the garage door opening didn’t distract her, but I got a rush of hope.
Hurry Dad, hurry.
I croaked the word “help” but it was barely audible. When the door opened and I saw Dad walk in carrying a paper grocery bag, I was on the verge of passing out. I slammed my fist against the wall to get his attention and it worked.

“What’s going on here?” He set the bag down on the counter and rushed over.

“Out I say!” she said, as if he wasn’t even there.

Dad grabbed her arms and pulled her away from me. I staggered back and gasped, pulling in deep gulps of air. She faced him. “Leave me alone!” Again, her voice was deep and angry. And she thought
I
was possessed. “I need to do this. I need to get Nadia back.”

“Nadia, are you okay?” he asked. I nodded and he looked relieved. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left.” Suddenly he looked old and tired to me. “I thought a quick trip to Pick ‘n Save would be okay.” Dad held Mom’s arm while she struggled to get to me. “Honey,” he said to her. “I can help you. Let me get your medication. You’ve had a rough time of it lately.”

“No,” she roared. “I will not be silenced.” She broke free of his grasp and ran to the other side of the island counter, opened the drawer and pulled out a butcher knife. “You’re with them,” she said, pointing the tip of the blade in his direction. “I should have known.”

“Put the knife back,” he said in a careful, measured manner. “I will help you, I promise. Just put down the knife. You know I love you.”

This is how it happens,
I thought, breathing heavily. Every time you read about a violent domestic death in the news it starts like this: family members living in the same house, going along with their lives day to day, never knowing that one day one of them will become unhinged and take things a little too far. I saw how easily my family could become one of those families. When she’d had her fingers around my neck, her thumbs digging into my windpipe, I’d felt my airway close and my life slipping away. And now she held the knife like she meant business. If she succeeded, we would be one more family on the police blotter, one more article in the news. And everyone who read it would wonder how in the world could this happen? Why would a mother murder her daughter or her husband? But honestly? It’s not as complex as you’d think. A knife, some rage, a moment of insanity, and it’s all over.

I picked up the phone and pressed the button to hang up, then dialed 911. At the same time, my dad moved cautiously toward her. “It’ll be okay,” he said. “You know I love you. You know Nadia loves you. We only want to help.”

Her eyes darted back and forth from him to me and back again. I could sense the distrust from several feet away. She was certain we were both against her.

“911, what’s your emergency?” The operator sounded so calm.

“My mother is completely out of control,” I said, my voice coming out raspy. “She tried to choke me and now she’s got a butcher knife.”

“Nadia,” my father said, giving me a sideways glance. “We don’t need to get the police involved. Tell them it’s okay and hang up the phone.”

“Who else is there with you?” From the way the operator spoke you’d have thought we had all the time in the world.

“My father is here,” I said.

“No!” my mother yelled, tearing around the counter and past my father who tried unsuccessfully to hold her back. She held the knife up over her head like we were at the Bates Motel and came right at me.

“Dad!” I cried out as I watched the whole scene in slow motion: my mother surging toward me, my father making a grab for the back of her shirt, and me, standing frozen with the phone against my ear. I saw the knife coming at my neck, dropped the phone and swung my leg out, kicking her in the thigh. The knife nicked the base of my neck right before she doubled over in pain.

“Demon child!” she yelled. My father went to restrain her but somehow she got a second wind. She turned on him then and they grappled for control of the knife.

I picked up the phone and yelled into the receiver. “Please send help. Please!”

The 911 operator rattled off our house number and street name. “Is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“We have a car in the neighborhood. The police will be there in a few minutes. Just stay on the phone with me. Can you do that?”

“Yes,” I croaked. My father wrested the knife out of Mom’s hand. Relieved, I slid down the wall until my butt hit the floor. “I can do that.”

Russ

I barely got any sleep because I was so worried about what had happened to Nadia. I didn’t want to think about how I would live in a world without her. No, I decided, she was fine. Something had happened to pull her back into her body and after that she just couldn’t come back. Maybe her mother’s cat Barry had barged in and jumped on her bed. It had happened before so Nadia usually kept her door closed, but it was possible that she forgot this one time.

At least that’s what I told myself. In my heart, I knew she wouldn’t forget.

When morning came, the artificial light from outside of the building mimicked the rising of the sun. Jameson was still just a lump under the covers, but I was wide awake so I raised the blinds and watched the courtyard below come to life. A young couple sat on a bench holding hands while an employee, a man in a beige jumpsuit, swept the walkway behind them. Another employee, a young woman, fussed with flowers in the planters. The flowers couldn’t be real, I thought, not without bees and true sunlight, but they sure looked authentic. It was a typical hotel courtyard scene, the only difference being that this hotel was located deep below the surface of planet Earth. Anything could be happening topside right now and we’d never know it. Everyone I loved could be gone while I stood here watching a man sweep, a woman arrange flowers, and a couple holding hands. I missed Nadia desperately right then. She always knew the right thing to say to make me feel better. All we wanted was to be together. It didn’t seem to be asking too much.

I wondered if she was safe. I wondered if she thought of me as much as I was thinking about her. And I wondered if I should have fought against my good sense and pulled her through the window that night. The two of us could have taken off and gone somewhere, anywhere. Between the two of us we would have figured it all out.

At eight o’clock we all gathered for breakfast in the hotel restaurant and afterward we met in the lobby where we were broken into smaller groups and told our schedule for the day. Jameson and Dr. Anton left to scope out the hall where the Bash would be held, while Rosie and Mallory went off with one of the guard officials to be schooled in how to approach the vice president. As Rosie said, “You can’t practice mind control on someone if you can’t get close to him.”

Mallory was excited about the upcoming Black Tie Bash. Typical girl concerns—what she would wear and how she was going to do her hair. She’d changed her look on this trip, losing the ponytail and letting her hair just fall naturally on her shoulders. I noticed she tucked it behind her ears a lot. When we’d talked about the Bash earlier, she’d asked, “Up or down?” scooping her hair up and piling it on top of her head to give us the full effect.

“Either way is fine,” I said. I used to find Mallory so fascinating, but now her endless talking put me on edge. I was glad when everyone left and Carly and I could sit in peace. I kept thinking about Nadia and what was going on at her house. Once again I hoped the interruption had been something as simple as the cat jumping on her bed. I wanted that to be it.

My thoughts of Nadia were interrupted when Dr. Wentworth came to pick up Carly and me in the hotel lobby after breakfast. “Ready for your big day?” Dr. Wentworth asked. She had a forced smile, the kind that says
let’s get on with this.

I nodded. I was keyed up and nervous about meeting the president, even though she would be unconscious. Dr. Wentworth was all business this morning. The three of us walked silently to the station. We’d been told the hospital was a short subway ride from the hotel, giving me just enough time to mentally prepare. On the subway I found myself interlocking my fingers and flexing my hands over and over again, my way of getting ready for a morning of healing. Or maybe I should say, a morning of
trying
to heal. I said a silent prayer that I’d be able to do it.

Carly sat next to me with the doctor in the row behind us. The seats were red leather edged by a row of brass rivets along the top. The PGDC appeared to be a mix of old style and new architecture. Nothing in this city down below was scuffed or worn or faded. Everything looked new. I ran a finger over the top of the seat in front of us, trying to keep my mind off the enormity of what they were asking me to do. Carly must have sensed my nervousness because she leaned over and said, “Look at us. Two outcasts from Edgewood, Wisconsin off to see the president. Who’d have thought?”

“Outcast? Speak for yourself,” I said.

She leaned back and gave me a hard look. “I stand by my statement. You and I, we’re both outcasts.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so.” I knew kids at school who had trouble making friends and didn’t seem to fit anywhere and even they weren’t outcasts. Just too outside of the mainstream. “I have plenty of friends.”

“You can have plenty of friends, but still know on some level that you’re not the same as them. Inside we all have secret lives. Trust me, you’re an outcast. If your so-called friends at school knew about your superpowers, they’d never treat you the same.”

“Maybe so, but that doesn’t make me an outcast.”

“Okay, have it your way.”

Carly didn’t do it that often, but I hated it when she assumed the wiser older sister role. I had parents to give me advice I didn’t want to hear. I didn’t need it from her too. “Thanks, I will.”

She squeezed my arm. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m proud of you, Russ. You’re doing the right thing even though you know it might not end well.” She had a thoughtful look that made me wonder if this was about more than just me. “Believe me, I’ve seen it not end well.”

“Are you thinking about David Hofstetter?” I asked.

Carly looked down at her shoes, and didn’t say anything. At first I thought she hadn’t heard me, but then she nodded and I saw her eyes were filled with tears.

“Even after all this time, the thought of him still makes you cry?” I said.

“I’m always thinking about him,” she said. “It never stops. Just when I think I’ve got him out of my system I hear a song that reminds me of him, or something he said pops into my brain and it starts all over again. Sixteen years this has been going on. You’d think it would have faded by now. It makes me crazy. Why is it still so painful?” When she locked eyes with me her gaze was steady. “Believe me, I don’t want to feel like this, Russ. I
hate
feeling like this, but I can’t seem to get past it. I miss him and I’m so angry that he’s gone. There’s no changing the past, but if you can help bring down those lying murderers, the Associates, it might bring me some peace. That’s one of the reasons I wanted to come with you on this trip. I want to be there when it happens.”